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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833905">Devil's Trap</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stay_inlove/pseuds/stay_inlove'>stay_inlove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>HBO Supernatural, Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canonical Character Death, Catholic Guilt, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, If Supernatural (TV) Were on HBO, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Dean Winchester, M/M, Other, Past Child Abuse, Self-Hatred, Telekinetic Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stay_inlove/pseuds/stay_inlove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Starting from season one, I'm rewriting Supernatural as if it was on HBO. From the beginning. Yeah. I'm already tired. <br/>I will be updating tags as time goes on to include more tags if need be!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Monsters are Real</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Monsters are real. </p>
<p>All monsters are real. </p>
<p>Werewolves and vampires stalk the streets at night, preying on unsuspecting drunks, women hoping to find at least one night of companionship, children looking for a moment of silence from their arguing families. The joy does not come from the hearts consumed, the blood imbibed. It comes from the fear, the realization that the thing they put their trust in is less than human, the scream or whimper as the life drains from the victims. </p>
<p>Angels and demons fight for souls, day and night. Angels live in holy places, bringing their wise and god-like words to the hurting and the broken. Demons live outside, waiting to prey on the vulnerable and unsure of faith. They wage the wars of their gods, never allowed to think for themselves, all leading up to a final battle that may or may not happen. </p>
<p>Witches and wendigos, ghosts and ghouls, shapeshifters and selkies. All are real, all are killers, and all are being hunted at all times by humans whose lives are shaped by the monsters they hunt. </p>
<p>This is a story about those hunters. Those humans who have been consumed with the need to hunt down every Thing that goes bump in the night. </p>
<p>This is a story...about the Winchesters.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Saying Goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sam Winchester is at college. Sam Winchester hasn't had to deal with his family for the past year and a half. </p>
<p>Everything's going to change.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This story begins in a church. Not a polished, well-loved, functioning church; it was not a church with candles burning at all hours of the night. No stained glass windows were depicting the life of Jesus Christ. The windows that were there were most broken, glass littering the ripped carpet floor of the church. Half the pews were broken and the other half were chipped or scratched. The velvet on the altar was ripped to shreds. The roof was more holy than the cross on the wall anymore, and the pouring rain was dripping onto the carpet, the pews, and the head and shoulders of the only patron of the destroyed church. </p>
<p>The young man knelt in front of the altar, hands trembling and clasped together in front of him. His chin-length hair was falling in front of his face, head tilted forward as he pressed his lips against his knuckles. His lips moved quickly, though no sound came out. He prayed silently. All he could smell was the rain around him. The rosary clasped in his hands was cool, and yet it burned the palm of his hand as he held it, pleasant in a strange, awful way. </p>
<p>This was Sam Winchester. This had become a ritual for him, every Sunday, to come to the ruined place of worship. It was only five minutes from his apartment at Stanford, and he felt better here than he did at the Cathedral a block away from his school. Physically and mentally. </p>
<p>He didn't know what it was about churches or crosses or holy water. Something about it made his skin itch. He had never gone to an official church service without feeling like his skin was crawling or burning like he didn't belong. He just felt like he didn't belong. He had tried, so many times, to feel like he fit in there. When his father had dropped him at Pastor Jim's place, when he had gone with his older sister, when he had thrown holy water on things that were less than human and it had splashed on him...He had never felt like he belonged. It scared him. It had always scared him. Now, a year and a half after leaving his father and sister, it was less scary and more...the norm for him. He still didn't quite understand, but his girlfriend was okay with it, and that was what mattered to him. </p>
<p>He was praying now, and he couldn't really tell what he was praying for. He had a lot to repent for and a lot he had repented for already. He had done a lot of wrong in his life and asked forgiveness for it every day of his life, but Sundays were the days where he rehashed every single small thing that he had done his entire life. Everything he had done, thought, seen. Repentance was the only way for him to even have any hope that he won't go insane keeping in all of the things he had done. </p>
<p>Ever since he was a kid, he had been able to do strange things. His father was continuously trying to baptize him or "exorcise" him to no avail. He was something Other, and it scared him. He could make a glass break if he was upset enough, he could make someone's nose bleed, he could move things around if he wanted to. One time, when he was really young, someone had broken into their motel room while his sister was asleep, and, before he could put his knife where he really wanted to, Sam had made sure the knife had gone into the man's throat. It was a rude thing for the eight-year-old to wake up to. Sam had never done it again. Especially not after his father had come back to the motel and poured the rest of the holy water he had on Sam's head. </p>
<p>As he prayed, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched. Like there was someone right behind him, looking over his shoulder. As time went on, the feeling grew even more until finally Sam realized there was someone right behind him. His eyes flicked open and he swallowed hard, skin crawling with the idea that he was going to have to fight again. He gripped the rosary tighter, the cross burning into the already scarred skin, and pushed his leg out behind him, tripping whoever was behind him. There was an, "Oof," as the body hit the floor and Sam dropped his rosary, pulling his knife out of it's holder on his belt. He turned completely and pressed his knife into the person's throat as they began to go for him. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw the face, his voice died in his throat. </p>
<p>"Glad to see you're not out of practice, Sammy," Dean, Sam's older sister, said, a grin on her face. Sam let the knife fall against his thigh and blinked at Dean. She looked the same as she had the night he left. Well, almost. Her dark blonde hair was definitely shorter and she had a bruise on her cheek, but for the most part, this was his sister, and he hadn't seen her in over a year. Her green eyes sparkled as she clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Aren't you going to say something?" </p>
<p>Sam shook his head, glancing around the church slightly for any sign of another person. When he was sure no one was in there, he looked back at Dean. "What the hell are you doing here?" </p>
<p>Dean rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. "Nice, man. I just got here." She pushed herself up to a standing position and held her hand out for Sam. He took it and let her pull him to his feet, though he didn't take his eyes off her the entire time. She leaned down and picked up his rosary looking at it for a moment before handing it back. "I don't think that should have that much blood on it." Sam took it from her quickly, shoving it in his pocket. She pushed her own hands in her pockets and glanced around. "Can't you afford to be in a nicer place than this, college boy?" </p>
<p>"Dean," Sam shook his head, sighing heavily. "Answer the question. What are you doing here?"</p>
<p>Dean cleared her throat, looking down at her shoes then back up at Sam. There was a slight hesitation there, and she fidgeted ever-so-slightly with the necklace resting on her chest. She shook her head. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." </p>
<p>Sam raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay?" </p>
<p>"Dad's on a hunting trip," Dean raised her eyebrows and locked eyes with Sam, "and he hasn't been home in a few days." </p>
<p>Despite how everything ended between Sam and John Winchester, he still felt his stomach twist when Dean spoke. pressed his knuckles to his lips, not missing the way Dean's eyes flicked down to his dark purple nails. She didn't say anything, though, instead just letting it sink in that this had happened. John was missing. If John was missing and Dean was here talking to Sam...</p>
<p>"No," Sam took a step back. Dean opened her mouth but Sam put a hand up. "Dean, I have a life here. I have a girlfriend. I have an interview for grad school on Monday. I can't help you try to find Dad when he's probably just...off drunk with Uncle Bobby after a successful hunt." </p>
<p>Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand down her face. "Sam." She cleared her throat. "Sam, listen, I'm- This feels different. He called me a week ago and said it might be a little while, but he hasn't answered me since. And the call, it had an EVP in it. I don't know what it means, but I- I'm worried about him. He never goes MIA for this long." Sam snorted and rolled his eyes, but Dean kept going. "Anymore. He doesn't do it anymore. I'm...I think something might have happened." </p>
<p>"Dean..." Sam breathed out slowly. "I-" He looked at Dean, who pressed her lips together in a thin line. She looked away. Sam scratched the back of his neck. "You- Why did you come? Why'd you come try and get me to help you? You're perfectly capable of hunting by yourself."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know, I-" Dean hesitated, fingers twitching slightly as she looked at him. "I don't want to. I didn't realize how much of a life you had here. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come. I'll find Dad myself. Nice to see you, bro." </p>
<p>She started walking out the church. Sam felt guilt clawing at him as he watched her walk away, down the aisle of the church. He thought about Jessica, and how she would hate to have him leave. Then, he thought about how he had left Dean alone with John for a year and a half. He had been having trouble reconciling that with himself. It was one of the points he prayed about so often. Forgiveness for leaving Dean with a man who had done nothing good for them their entire lives. He squared his shoulders. </p>
<p>"Get me back by Monday," Sam said. Dean stopped but didn't turn around. "No, scratch that. Sunday night. I need to be back by Sunday night. And you have to take me to go say goodbye to my girlfriend before we go. Once we find Dad, we're done." </p>
<p>Dean turned to look at Sam, a slight smile on her face, then nodded. "Sure. Yes. I can agree to those terms. Where's your girlfriend? I already broke into your apartment and packed some clothes. Your fashion sense is so ridiculous, by the way." </p>
<p>She started walking out and Sam hesitated for a moment, then followed her out of the church. He took one last look inside, sent one last prayer upstairs, then took a step outside. He glanced out and flinched slightly at the sight of his father's old car. "He let you have the car?" </p>
<p>"You've got your girlfriend, I've got mine," Dean said, winking at Sam as she walked to the car, a slight bounce in her step. She had known, hadn't she? This whole time, she had known that he would go with. Out of pure hope or actually knowing that Sam was a lot more devoted to Dean than he was to their father, Sam didn't know, but he pushed his hands into his pockets and moved to the passenger's side. Even just lowering himself into the car made his heart start racing. He had spent countless hours in his car, either curled up in the backseat reading or sleeping with his head on Dean's shoulder. As Dean turned the car on, Sam heard the rattling of the lego pieces they had shoved into the vents. He shut his eyes and tapped his fingers, anxiously, on his knees, a faint prickling on the back of his neck that he didn't know the meaning of. "Where am I going?" Dean asked. </p>
<p>"The church a block from campus. She has group tonight," Sam said quietly, looking out the window. He frowned slightly. "So you said he called you. There's an EVP on it. Can I hear it?" </p>
<p>Dean nodded. "Yeah, I've got a recording of just the EVP for you," she said, pulling a recorder out of her pocket and handing it over to him. He took it from her, acutely aware of the fact that she had gone through all the trouble of recording the voicemail and scrubbing John's voice from it. Sam almost smiled. </p>
<p>He held the recorder up to his ear and pressed play, listening carefully. For a moment there was nothing, just popping static. He glanced over at Dean, who motioned for him to keep listening. He heard a slight mumbling under all the static and breathed out slowly, thanking God that Dean was smart enough to know he wouldn't want to hear his father's voice. He swallowed hard and kept listening before he finally heard it. A loud voice, rasping, like nails on a chalkboard. “I can n- ever…g- o hhhhhhome..." The recording cut off there. Sam frowned slightly, handing the recorder back to Dean. </p>
<p>"And he didn't hear any of that?" Sam asked, eyebrows twitching together. Dean shook her head. </p>
<p>"At least, he didn't say anything about it," Dean shrugged a shoulder. "This should just be an open and shut case, that's what he told me, but he's been gone for two weeks now. And now that voicemail? I don't know, man, it seems off." </p>
<p>Sam nodded, pulling his knee up to his chest. He rested his chin on his knee. "Yeah, it does seem off," he agreed. He didn't know why it felt off. It was just like John to say he was going on a hunt and instead go on a bender. If he hit a roadblock with the demon he had been hunting for twenty-two years, half the time he wouldn't be back for weeks. Until Bobby found him and dragged him back. John could have just done that again. But for some reason, Sam felt...prickly. That was the best way to describe it. Like this was something that he needed to be with Dean on. </p>
<p>Dean pulled them up to the church and Sam glanced up at it, sighing heavily. "Alright, uh, you stay here. I'll be right back." </p>
<p>"You sure?" Dean asked, putting the Impala in park. Sam glanced over at Dean, raising an eyebrow. Dean shrugged and motioned to the church slightly. "I just- uh, I know that you don't like going into real churches." She glanced away and cleared her throat. "But as long as you'll be okay in there, I'll just hang here." </p>
<p>Sam looked at his hands, then back up at the church. "Yeah, that's- I'll be fine. In and out. No worries." </p>
<p>Dean nodded, pulling out her pack of Marlboro Reds. She rolled down her window, then nodded again. "In and out. Tell your girlfriend how much you love her and hate me for dragging you away."</p>
<p>"Oh, trust me, I'll do both those things an equal amount of time," Sam said, smiling slightly. Dean snorted as Sam got out of the car, then shut the door and started walking up the steps to the front of the church. He hesitated slightly at the door, but put his hand on the handle after a second. Dean was watching. And he knew that she would notice if he hesitated too much. He hadn't set foot in a functioning church in a very long time. He swallowed hard and took a step into the church. </p>
<p>Immediately, he felt like he had gotten somehow sunburnt the night before. His skin ached and itched and he had the urge he hadn't had in a very long time to just start picking at it. It bothered him, but he cleared his throat and moved forward anyway. He knew it would only get worse. He asked someone where the women's group would be, and they pointed him in the right direction. He walked, feet heavy, and knocked carefully on the door. A woman answered it with a friendly smile and the corners of Sam's lips twitched up slightly. </p>
<p>"Uh, hi- hi. I'm looking for, um...Jess- Jessica Moore," Sam managed to get out. Growing up in the lifestyle he did, his people skills were absolutely awful. He was smart, could read a five hundred page book in two hours if need be, but there was rarely a need for that. He had lived almost his entire life on the road, and Dean was the only one that spoke to him without yelling at him all the time. He didn't have any idea why Jess was with him after he stuttered over everything he said for the first week they were seeing each other. </p>
<p>The woman turned to look into the room and there she was. Jessica Moore. She was walking toward him. She looked beautiful. As usual. Sam smiled slightly, almost forgetting the fact that his skin was starting to feel even worse. His head hurt. But there was Jess, and it didn't matter. God, he was so in love with her. Her long blonde hair bounced as she walked toward him, wearing her most modest outfit despite the fact that in two hours, she'd be at another college party. Her brown eyes sparkled. He looked at her dimples and wanted to melt. She moved to him and looked at the woman at the door. "You all can continue. I'll be back in in a few minutes, okay?" </p>
<p>The woman nodded, smiling at Jess. She shut the door behind her and Jess's practiced smile fell off. Instead, she just looked at Sam with a happy grin on her face and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Hey," she said softly. He hugged her back and squeezed her tight. </p>
<p>"Hey," he murmured against her hair. He breathed out slowly and pulled away from her, looking at her face. He cupped her cheeks and smiled softly. "I- I have something to talk to you about." </p>
<p>Jess raised an eyebrow and nodded, frowning slightly. "Are you okay? You feel warm." </p>
<p>"No, I'm- I'm fine. Yeah. It's okay," Sam said quietly, then pulled back. "I, uh...I just. My sister is here. I've mentioned her to you before. Uh, she found me at the church and brought me back, and I...um, I guess my dad is currently missing. He went hunting with some work friends and hasn't been home in a little while. I'm absolutely sure it's nothing, but Dean wants me to help her find him. I'm assuming it's as sort of an attempt to bond, she always pulls this sort of sh- uh, crap, but, um, yeah. I'm leaving tonight." </p>
<p>Jess raised her other eyebrow as well now and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh. Wow. Okay. What about your interview on Monday?" </p>
<p>"I made her promise that I'll be back by Sunday night. If we don't find Dad by then, I'll be coming back. Hopefully we find him early," Sam shrugged a shoulder, and Jess sighed sadly. </p>
<p>"Okay," she murmured. "Alright, that's- if that's what you want to do, I'll support you by offering my services after you get back. And I'll make sure to keep my phone on and on me at all times, okay?" </p>
<p>Sam flushed slightly, looking around the church to make sure nobody heard it. His head was starting to pound but he refused to move. This was the love of his life, and he wasn't going to pass up saying goodbye to her. He scratched the back of his neck and nodded slightly. "Thank you. Uh, her car's running, though, so I should...I should go." He leaned down and kissed her gently, running his fingers through her hair. </p>
<p>"I love you," Jess whispered as they both pulled back at the same time. Sam kissed her forehead quickly and nodded. </p>
<p>"I love you, too," he mumbled, smiling shakily. He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, then moved toward the door, blowing a kiss to Sam as she did. "I'll call you," he said quietly, grinning at her. She smiled back. As she disappeared through the door, Sam felt like calling her back, saying he was just kidding, asking her to leave group early and go out for dinner. He saw her burning on the ceiling again, for just a second, something he had been seeing in his dreams every night for the past month. That wouldn't happen. He was leaving for only a few days. He would be back by the interview, nothing would happen to Jess, and they would all be fine. </p>
<p>At hte moment, though, he had to get the hell out of that church. His stomach was churning and his skin was burning. He walked as fast as he could out of the church and turned right instead of heading to the Impala right away. He slipped into the shadows quickly and bent over, gagging hard. His skin felt like it was new, like he had peeled off one layer, and now everything felt way too...sensitive. He retched and shuddered at the awful feeling of relief that the was out of the church. He heard footsteps come up behind him and, out of his peripheral, he saw a water bottle thrust at him. He grabbed it and chugged almost the whole thing, breathing heavily. He looked over at Dean, who smiled sadly at him. </p>
<p>"Come on. I only have you for a few days, we've got to get on the road," Dean said, walking back toward the car. Sam took another long drink, then nodded, following after Dean.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Jericho, California</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The siblings make their way to the last known location of their missing father and attempt to navigate how their relationship has changed as brother and sister. Sam has reservations about hunting again. Dean just wants to spend time with her little brother.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean knew exactly where she was going, but Sam still pulled out a map just to make sure. The rumble of the Impala was comforting, a reminder that he was there, he was in the Impala with Dean trying to find their father. It was terrifying, honestly, the idea that he was in that moment. But the sound and smell of the Impala made him feel so much better. He leaned his head back against the headrest and focused on the feeling of the leather under his hands. He looked over at Dean as she smoked her third cigarette in an hour. Most of her hair was up in a messy bun, but some of it had fallen loose, and Sam remembered the first time she had chopped it all off. She had been so much happier before John got back from a hunt and saw it. That had been one of the worst fights he and Dean had ever had. </p><p>They were listening to angry girl rock, and Sam cleared his throat after a long moment. "Dad lets you listen to this music in his car?" </p><p>Dean let out a laugh, smoke curling from her lips. She shook her head. "He doesn't know about this at all. If he thought I was listening to music that wasn't classic rock in his car, he would kill me. Listen, I love classic rock, but there's only so many times you can listen to Carry On Wayward Son in a row before it gets exhausting." </p><p>"Oh yeah, I remember," Sam laughed slightly and ran a hand through his hair. He cleared his throat. "This is a change, though. How'd you even hear this music?" </p><p>Dean opened her mouth to respond, paused, then shut her mouth again. She breathed out slowly. Sam frowned slightly. She cleared her throat. "A, um...a girl I hooked up with listened to it a lot," she finally said. Sam blinked. She glanced over at him, then back at the road, taking a long drag from her cigarette. Sam squinted. </p><p>"Okay," he nodded slightly. "Alright." </p><p>Dean nodded, face slightly flushed. She tossed her cigarette out the window and rolled the window back up. She cleared her throat. "Yeah, so, uh, don't say anything about that to Dad. I know you wouldn't, but it's just...I should...I need him to not know about that. But- Yeah." She shook her head. "Anyway, now I really like angry girl music, and I had this girl make me a mix of it before I left town." </p><p>Sam coughed. "Sure. That's...That was nice of her," he said, smiling slightly at Dean. She looked at him and Sam shrugged a shoulder. "I'm not telling Dad. Obviously. Do you really think I would talk to Dad about anything?" </p><p>Dean let out a laugh. "No, I guess not." She swallowed. "Uh, you know, we're going to be driving for a while. You can close your eyes for a little while. I'm used to driving all night and I doubt Dad would want you to drive, so if you need to sleep, you're welcome to." </p><p>"I'm fine for now," Sam looked out the window. "What band is this?" </p><p>"Uh, I believe it's 'The Kills,'" Dean replied. </p><p>Sam nodded. "They do sound very angry." </p><p>Dean laughed, nodding. "Yeah, they are," she replied. She rubbed a hand over her face. "Once you drive the car, you can pick the music." </p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow. "Is that a thing that exists in this car, then?" </p><p>"House rules, Sammy," Dean replied, clucking her tongue. "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole." </p><p>Sam rolled his eyes. "It's Sam. 'Sammy' is a chubby twelve-year-old." </p><p>"You'll always be the cubby twelve-year-old to me," Dean replied, smirking. "Bitch." </p><p>"Jerk," Sam said, smiling faintly. They both sat in silence for a little while, just listening to the music playing through the crackling speakers. He felt good for the first time since he had first seen Dean in the church. It was a strange thing for him, to feel like he was going to be okay with his family. But it was Dean, and she had been willing to come out to him, a source of contention between she and their father, he was sure. Well, actually, he knew for sure, considering she asked him not to say anything. It was a lot to hold in, especially for Dean. Sam knew Dean better than anyone, despite having not seen her in a year and a half. He glanced over at her again. Her sleeves were pushed up slightly, and Sam saw that she had almost a full sleeve of tattoos now. Before, just her shoulders were covered, but now one of her arms had tattoos all the way down to the wrists. All protection symbols and song lyrics and quotes from her favorite movies. Anything to cover up the scars from her father and different hunts, he was sure. Sam had a single tattoo, on the inside of his upper arm. A bible verse. "The trouble is with me, for I am all too human, and a slave to sin." Romans 7. He had nearly the entire Bible memorized, had spent years reading and rereading it despite the migraine it gave him. That verse was always the one that spoke to him. He didn't know why it didn't hurt when it was on his skin, but reading it gave him a pain in his head he hadn't been able to shake. </p><p>Eventually, Sam leaned his head back, but he only got maybe an hour of sleep before he was awake again. Every time he got close to falling asleep, there would be a bump in the road or Dean would roll the window down or the song would get a little too loud, and he would wake up. He hadn't slept in a car in so long. It wasn't like riding a bike. He was glad he wouldn't have to get used to this again, because it was not something he liked. His neck was always a little sore and he never got a good night's sleep. </p><p>They pulled into the town, Jericho, California, and Dean hummed softly, a confused hum. Dean cleared her throat. "Sammy, eyes open." </p><p>Sam blinked a few times and looked over at Dean. It was bright outside, and Sam checked the time on his phone quickly. There was a heart message from Jess, but he ignored that for a moment. It was six in the morning. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. "What's up?" </p><p>Dean pointed at the bridge in front of them. It was roped off, surrounded by police officers, and Sam could see what they were all surrounding. A car, blood splattered up against the windows from the inside. Dean parked and Sam saw the passenger's side door was open. He only took one glance inside, but he could see that there was blood covering the entire interior of the car. It made him feel sick just to see it. </p><p>"We may have gotten rid of all your fake I.D.'s," Dean muttered as she leaned over him to open the glove box. "But if I talk fast enough, I can probably swing it for you." </p><p>Sam shook his head. "No. No, I- um, I'm really just here to help you find Dad, so you can handle this. Just say I'm not okay with blood. We've used that excuse before when I was sick, we can use it again." </p><p>Dean looked at Sam carefully, raising her eyebrow. "Yeah. Alright, that's fine." She grabbed her FBI I.D. out of the glove box and pushed her sleeves down all the way so her tattoos weren't showing. She undid her bun and pulled half her hair up into a ponytail, letting the rest hang down. Lastly, she pulled lipstick out of the center console. It wasn't a bright shade, more neutral, but Sam still raised an eyebrow at it. Dean looked back at him. "Problem?" </p><p>"No, no, just...since when do you wear that?"</p><p>She shrugged. "Helps me get more information out of cops. I don't know why it works, but it does. Something about femininity makes men go crazy. It's fine, I use it to my advantage most days." She winked and Sam snorted, shaking his head. Dean shoved the lipstick back in the center console. She looked up at Sam. "Alright. I'll be right back, let you know what's going on, then we can get a motel room. Good plan?" </p><p>"Good plan," Sam replied, pulling out his phone. "Watch out for the actual feds." </p><p>Dean gave him a thumbs up and got out of the car, pulling her sleeves down as much as she could. She shut the door and walked up to the cops. Sam shot Jess a text, telling her that they had gotten to Jericho and they were trying to see where John's campsite was. It killed him to lie to her, but he knew he could never tell her the truth. Well, maybe someday, but having only been dating for a year, he really felt like he couldn't put this on her. Besides, how would she even believe him? That would be an insane thing to claim. "Hey, the reason I don't talk about my family is because they hunt monsters because my mom was killed by a demon in my nursery when I was a kid." </p><p>Yeah, doubtful. Sam got an "Okay, I love you, keep me posted," back from her, and he looked up at Dean, who was speaking to Sheriff at the moment. Dean looked so in her element, Sam was almost jealous. He hadn't grown up the way Dean had, helping John with cases or taking care of anyone else. He had grown up with Dean and Dean alone. When he went hunting, he helped them with the last part, the killing part, not the getting information part. He hoped it would get better with time, but, honestly, who knew? He was supposed to be a lawyer, for God's sake. It always bothered him, his stutter, his panic, all of it. But Jess had been trying to help him get over that, and it was working. A little. At least he was comfortable enough with Dean still that the stutter wasn't coming up. John had tried to beat that part out of him, too, and Dean knew it was a point of contention for him. </p><p>Dean came back to the car just as the real Feds pulled up and Sam sunk down in the seat, looking out the opposite window. Dean got in the driver's side and cleared her throat. "Alright, motel time," she said, pulling out as quickly as she could. She pulled out a cigarette and stuck it between her lips, lighting it quickly. Sam nodded as she started driving. Dean cleared her throat. "Alright, so, there's no body. The guy who owns that car up there was on the phone with his girlfriend and apparently he started acting strange. He sounded like he stopped the car, told his girlfriend he would be over that night, and hung up. Surprise, surprise, he never showed up, and his car was found a few hours later, passenger door open, no body, blood bukake." </p><p>Sam grimaced and nodded. "Okay," he said, though he still felt a little nauseous even thinking about it. "So what's the plan?" </p><p>"Well," Dean started. "I'm going to get us a motel room, and then we are going to go talk to the girlfriend."</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, looking at Dean. He tapped his nails against his legs and shook his head. "Where does finding Dad factor into all of this?" </p><p>Dean glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. "We're working on it. We work the case, we find Dad. He'll be at the end of it." </p><p>"Shouldn't...I mean, if Dad's still here, shouldn't the case be solved already? He's been gone for a while, he should have already solved it, right?" Sam asked. </p><p>Dean clenched her jaw. She shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah. Probably. But that's just what we have to do, man, okay? Follow the signs. So, we talk to the girlfriend, we figure out what's going on, we find Dad." </p><p>Something about that didn't sit right with Sam. He felt like...well, he felt like John should have figured it out already. He was a good hunter, despite all his other issues, and he could usually solve a case within at least a couple of days at the most. The fact that it had been over a week since Dean heard anything from John...something was off.</p><p>They got to the motel and both of them got out. Sam pushed his hands into his pockets and Dean grabbed her wallet out of her pocket, pulling out a credit card. Sam snorted. "You two still running credit card scams?" </p><p>Dean shrugged. "Once hunting starts paying, I'll stop," she said, smiling slightly at him. She opened the door to the motel lobby and let Sam go in. He walked in and glanced over at Dean, who moved in after him.</p><p>The man at the desk looked up and raised an eyebrow. "How can I help you?" He asked. He was addressing Sam and Sam blinked a few times, opening his mouth to try and speak, but Dean stepped forward and handed the card to the man. </p><p>"One room," Dean said, smiling sharply at him. "Two beds." </p><p>The man glanced between the two of them, then down at the card. He raised an eyebrow. "Family reunion in town or somethin'?" He asked. Dean glanced over at Sam. Sam just shrugged slightly and looked back at the man. </p><p>"Uh, actually, we were getting a room for the three of us, but if he's here already, we'll just take the key for that room," Dean said, turning back to look at the man, giving him her best winning smile. </p><p>The man looked at her doubtfully but shrugged his shoulders. He turned around and grabbed a key from behind him, handing that and the credit card back. "Room 103." </p><p>Dean nodded at him, then turned around, looking at Sam. She exited the building and Sam followed her, giving the man a quick smile as he left. They moved to the room silently. Dean knocked on it first. No answer. She sighed heavily and stuck the key in the lock, turning it slowly. She opened the door slowly, peeking in before frowning and opening the door all the way. "Not in here," she said, sighing heavily. Sam glanced in and raised an eyebrow. </p><p>"But a lot is," Sam muttered, taking a step in. It looked like John didn't have any luggage in there, but the walls were covered in news articles, pictures, everything they probably would have researched. "Looks like he did all the heavy lifting himself, huh?" </p><p>Dean picked up half a burger and sniffed it, grimacing immediately. "Jesus. He hasn't been here in...a while." She glanced around at the walls. Sam frowned and took a few steps forward, tapping a picture of a news article on the wall. </p><p>"Looks like he thought it was connected to a...a murder-suicide?" Sam guessed, frowning. "Killed her two kids, then jumped off the bridge...that car was found on." Sam flicked his eyes over everything else. "He thinks it was a woman in white." </p><p>Dean hummed distractedly. Sam frowned and turned around to look at her, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking down at something in her hand. He took a step forward, glancing over her shoulder at it. It was a picture, a very old picture, of Dean when he was four and Sam when he was just a little kid. In their father's arms. Sam glanced over at Dean, who was just staring at it. "Hey," Sam said, knocking his shoulder against hers. She looked up at him, blinking a few times, then down at the picture again. She cleared her throat and pushed it into her pocket. </p><p>"Sorry, uh, what did you say? Woman in white?" Dean asked. Sam nodded and pointed at the news article, then the drawing directly next to it. Dean crossed her arms over her chest. "So what's the deal with a woman in white?"</p><p>Sam cleared his throat. "From what I can make of Dad's handwriting, and the, uh, the legend that I can remember, the woman in white is a lady who...whose husband cheats on her. So to get revenge, she- she kills their kids and then herself, to make sure that her husband can feel the same pain she felt. The same sense of...loss, I guess." </p><p>Dean scratched her neck. "Okay, so why's she killing people? That explains what she is but not why she's doing it?" </p><p>"She kills the unfaithful. The people who cheat on their significant others," Sam replied, eyebrows furrowing together. </p><p>Dean raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I had a boyfriend in seventh grade and we moved before I could break up with him," she looked at Sam. "Is that going to be an issue?" </p><p>Sam looked at her, unimpressed, then cleared his throat. "It looks like her husband is still alive. Maybe we can check up, make sure that the legend lines up. Then tonight, we head to the bridge?" </p><p>"Just to see what we can see? Yeah, sure," Dean replied. She looked around the room, chewing her bottom lip. Sam cleared his throat and grabbed the keys out of Dean's hand. Dean looked at him, blinking a few times, eyebrows furrowed. "The hell are you doing?" </p><p>"Driving," Sam said, smirking slightly, then headed toward the car. </p><p>"Fuck off," Dean shouted from inside, then ran outside, grabbing the keys back from him. "Other side, dickhead." Sam laughed quietly, moving to the passenger's side door. </p><p>It was starting to feel better. All of this. Sam got into the passenger's seat, Dean turned on the car, and the music started blaring through the speakers. Sam smiled slightly and looked out hte window. He definitely didn't want to keep this life still, but he could also stand doing this for a little while, he thought. And when Dean started singing along, he knew. </p><p>This wouldn't last, but for the time he had with Dean before they found John, he would make the most of it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Let me know if you like it!</p><p>Twitter: @sadwidoblast<br/>Tumblr: @eyes-wandering<br/>Spotify: @finalwill</p>
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